Bonded to the Alpha Page 8

  "Your family's dysfunctional. Do you know that? I can't ... fuck, that was torture."

  Nero blinked at him, then he frowned. "Did someone threaten you?"

  "What? No. What do you ... they were just weird." Callum chewed his lip, watching Nero move about the room putting things away, lining Callum's shoes up by the door, dimming the light. "Don't like me, though. Guess I don't blame them."

  "Vera seems to like you well enough."

  And that sounded suspiciously like– "You're jealous."

  Nero looked at him, and there, that same flash of werewolf silver, like cat-eyes in torchlight. "She's seventeen. She's too young for you."

  "I'm only nineteen," Callum pointed out and, whoa, those wolf eyes got dangerous. "She's a girl, Nero. Not even interested."

  The tension went out of Nero's frame, and he huffed, a faint smile curving his mouth. "That is fortunate for me."

  "Uh-huh. I mean," and Callum stretched out, folding his arms behind his head and pulling one knee up, foot flat on the coverlet, "I could probably get it up for a girl if I had to. I mean, life or death–"

  But suddenly Nero was over him, hands braced on either side of Callum's ribs, startling a yelp out of him. "There is no need."

  "Holy shit, don't ... you can't just do that, you'll give me a heart attack!"

  Nero cocked his head, leaning down to put his ear close to Callum's sternum. "Hmmm. No. You seem fine." He grinned and pushed himself up, sitting back on the bed. Callum leaned up on his elbows, and ... okay, so he liked Nero. He really did. If he was honest it was a bit ridiculous to think that someone that hot might actually want to sleep with him.

  He hadn't really noticed at first, with the whole 'terrified of dying' thing he'd been doing at the time, but it hadn't taken long to realise that Nero was fucking gorgeous, all lean brown muscle and stormy eyes and a mouth that expressed everything he was thinking in tiny twists and pouts. His serious face was seriously hot, and then he went and did unfair things like be suddenly funny when Callum wasn't expecting it. They weren't even jokes. It was just the shock of that face saying something unexpectedly dry or stupid and Callum ... it wasn't his fault, all right? He couldn't help it.

  It's not bloody Stockholm Syndrome, Jacks, he thought firmly. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't that.

  "You're thinking," Nero said, slowly blinking his unfair eyes. "Do you need help with that?"

  "Oh, ha-ha." Callum pulled a face. "Yeah, that's seductive. Bet you get all the boys."

  Nero smiled and took Callum's hand. His fingers were warm and dry, and Callum could feel the strength in them when he squeezed. "You're staying here tonight," he said. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't exactly an order either, so Callum only bristled a little at the presumption.

  "Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a car right now, I can't exactly drive back into town."

  "And that stopped you before," Nero said, sounding amused, but then he rubbed Callum's palm with his thumb, meaningfully. "But. If you insisted I'd drive you."

  "Why?"

  Nero didn't answer, just lifted Callum's hand, burying his nose and mouth in it and inhaling deeply. Callum had no idea what he smelled like. Soap, he hoped. But all the things he had touched – food, furniture, dirt, Ria's truck – maybe. Whatever it was, whatever combination of things, seemed to satisfy Nero, and he slid his nose up Callum's arm, scenting him all the way to the elbow. It was ... weird, but sort of nice. He kept on, hesitating at Callum's shoulder, then he pulled away, still holding Callum's wrist in one hand.

  "You're not afraid of me."

  It seemed so out of context. "Should I be?"

  "You were afraid, when they brought you in. The first time I saw you."

  Callum remembered it all too clearly. "I thought you were serial killers. I thought I was going to get Hannibal-ed." He wrinkled his nose. "If that makes sense."

  "You were afraid of us, not me."

  Callum wondered if it would be a bad thing to say, 'maybe because you're hot?' and decided it would. "How is that bad?"

  "It isn't. Strange. You are strange."

  "Says the werewolf."

  It made Nero huff, almost a laugh, and then he was stroking Callum's face with his fingers. "I want to touch you. Everywhere."

  That, Callum decided, was asking for permission. "Okay."

  Nero seemed to mean it; he started at the top, fingers spreading across Callum's scalp, dragging down to run behind his ears and down the back of his neck. Then he came up again, thumbs smoothing over Callum's eyebrows, over his cheekbones, along the line of his jaw and then, gently, down over his throat, and wide across his collarbones.

  Here he hit cloth, but before Callum could volunteer to take off his shirt Nero just kept going, fingers kneading the heavy muscles of Callum's shoulders, squeezing them and smoothing them as if committing them to memory.

  His face, as he did this, was focussed, as if this was important, as if Callum was important, maybe the most important thing in the world. Callum could hear Nero's breath hitch when he found something he liked particularly; he paused over the deltoids, brow furrowing, tip of his tongue coming up to wet his upper lip and, fuck, if that wasn't arousal then Callum wasn't sure what it was.

  Hah. Maybe he was just hungry.

  "You look like you're gonna eat me," he said, meaning it as a joke, but Nero's head came up, and his eyes were dark with something dangerous, and Callum had to remember to breathe.

  Nero drew away, but Callum didn't want him to; he hooked an arm around Nero's waist, pulling him back. He had to lean into Nero's chest to do it, and they ended up balanced against each other on their sides, Callum under, Nero stretched out over him with an arm braced against the bed.

  "Don't you fucking go anywhere," Callum said, and Nero closed his eyes, nodded, and opened them again.

  He settled onto his elbow, and his free hand resumed its exploration. It was less intense now, almost lazy, his fingers finding their way up under Callum's shirt to skate over his almost painfully sensitive skin. It took an effort not to think about being ticklish; that was the trick, Callum knew it, so he shuddered under Nero's hand but managed, somehow, not to just close up like a bear-trap.

  He distracted himself by lifting a hand to Nero's cheek. Nero leaned into it at once, nuzzling into his palm, but then Callum reached up to run his fingers through Nero's hair and, jeez, it was softer than he'd expected. It looked silky enough but it felt silkier, sleek and black and like nothing he'd ever felt before. Inhumanly soft, like stroking a particularly slick cat.

  Callum frowned, teasing his fingers through Nero's bangs. "Have you been bleaching your hair?" The little flicker of white was wider now, more obvious. "This was smaller, before, this strip. I thought. Did you bleach it today?"

  Nero frowned, fingers tensing on Callum's belly. "It isn't bleach."

  "Oh, so you have a natural white streak," Callum said, disbelieving him completely. He pushed Nero's bangs back to see it, and it was too white, too defined. The patch was coming up from the hairline, a little off-centre, and before it had been just a strip the width of two fingers but now it was a patch, almost as broad as his palm. It was under the rest, so he hadn't really seen it from a distance, but now he could tell it was definitely wider.

  "It isn't natural," Nero admitted, and for a moment Callum was struck by the thought that he had just caught Nero in a lie. About his hair? Was he that vain?

  "Then it is bleach?"

  "No." Nero's eyes flickered down and back up, serious in a way no-one should be about their hair. "It started after the bond was broken.."

  "That doesn't make any sense," Callum argued. "You have a magical white streak?"

  "I have no other explanation. All I know is it appeared and now it's growing."

  Callum didn't like the sound of his voice when he said that. "So ... all your hair will go white?"

  "Maybe."

  And that sounded too ominous. "What happens when it's all white?"

 
Nero's eyes were steady, his voice low and quiet. "I think you know."

  Suddenly the streak didn't seem so funny anymore. "That's stupid," Callum whispered, carding his fingers through Nero's bangs, feeling the hair soft and silky in his fingers. "Your magical hair is stupid."

  "Then help me fix it," Nero said, and leaned down to kiss him.

  It felt ... sad, really. Nero kissed him as though he were dying, which, well, he was. Wasn't he? And if what Nero said about Callum's arm were true, then weren't they both? There was a sort of end-of-the-world desperation about the way Nero pushed him down into the mattress, the way the hand under Callum's shirt clenched on him, fingers grasping and needy. He pushed Callum's shirt up, uncovering him from navel to chest, and then he ducked his head to press his face to Callum's bare skin, breathing in and then out with this ragged hitch to his breath that made Callum feel good and bad at the same time; good, because Nero sounded like he wanted him, but bad because it wasn't him, just ... Nero didn't want to die.

  And neither did Callum. But even if this was just, just life-saving sex, he could enjoy it, couldn't he? There wasn't anything wrong with that, right?

  He pulled his shirt up over his head, threw it somewhere on the floor, and tried to reach for his jeans but Nero was already there, hands shoving his away roughly.

  "No," Nero said, firmly. He came up to claim Callum's mouth, one hand forcing one of Callum's wrists down into the mattress beside his head, the other smoothing over Callum's belly, drawing patterns in Callum's skin as his fingers traced over the muscles. He pushed his tongue into Callum's mouth and Callum let him in, let himself be kissed until his head spun with it. Nero didn't tease, not like last time, nor was there was anything tentative in the hungry way he savaged Callum's mouth. It was like he needed it, like he was drowning, and Callum kept forgetting that yes, that's what this was, that's all this was.

  It was tricky, with Nero's fingers tucked into the band of Callum's jeans, his thumb smoothing over the zipper, the heel of his palm skating the lump of Callum's cock, already hard because Callum was nineteen, for god's sake.

  Callum whimpered, free hand reaching for Nero's shirt to latch his fingers into the buttons and just hold on, and it made Nero tighten his grip on the wrist he held so firmly to the bed. His teeth closed on Callum's lip, dragging on it, and Callum couldn't help it; he moaned, and it was loud without the smother of Nero's mouth.

  Nero went suddenly still. Then he tilted his head back, watching Callum with unblinking eyes. He was arched over Callum's torso, and he shifted his knees to bring them up until his hips were between Callum's thighs, Callum's legs around his waist, practically sitting in his lap. His weight held Callum's wrist deep in the mattress, and his other hand was opening Callum's jeans.

  Callum pulled in a breath. "You'll never get those off like this," he said, and his voice sounded wrecked in the heady silence.

  "Hush." Nero's voice had dropped down somewhere deep and low, and that voice did things to Callum, unfair and unmistakable things, and Callum was helpless to prevent it. Nero bit him, ungently, making Callum jerk beneath him. "Let me."

  Callum swallowed, and nodded, and Nero turned his uncanny eyes down, watched himself open up Callum's jeans and reach in to smooth his fingers over the hard shape of Callum's cock through the cloth of his boxers. Callum tried not to twitch, tried to hold still, but Nero slid his hand under the waistband, pushing it down and, god, just exposing him as if was nothing. Fuck, my dick is out, he's looking at it, ah, I'm so fucking hard... he barely had time to feel self-conscious, though, because then Nero had Callum in his palm; Callum's hips jerked up despite him and when Nero slid down the length of Callum's cock, Callum made a noise that could be mistaken for nothing but a plea.

  Then Nero started to work on him, sucking hot points into Callum's skin, and Callum couldn't think about anything besides the pressure of Nero's hand, the heat of his mouth, and the slide of his fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on his lip, and tried not to make embarrassing noises, but Nero came up to lick at his mouth.

  "No," he said. "Let me hear you." And when Callum opened his mouth to gasp, Nero caught his lip and sucked it hard enough to bruise.

  It felt unbelievably good, someone else's hand on him, someone who shouldn't know him as he knew himself, shouldn't be able to wring these noises from him but, oh, he could. Callum felt exposed, open, and it was just a hand-job in a darkened room, for fuck's sake, not like Nero was jerking him off in front of an audience – ohjesus just the thought of that made Callum faint and giddy.

  Nero's hand moved a little faster, and he ducked down to nuzzle Callum's cheek. "What was that? Your heart-rate spiked, what are you thinking?"

  Callum couldn't look at him, so he squeezed his eyes shut. "I ..." Don't say it.

  "Tell me," and he slowed right down, hand sliding smoothly below to cup Callum's balls in his palm and just stroke them with his fingers.

  It was the voice. Between the voice and the hand in his boxers Callum was helpless. "I thought of, if you did this ... if someone was watching."

  Nero breathed in, hard, and out, hard, and then his mouth was next to Callum's ear. "Someone specific?"

  It sounded so dark. "No, no-one, I ... just anyone."

  Nero caught Callum's earlobe in his teeth, tongue flickering against it, and Callum thought his heart might actually stop when Nero sucked on it. "Strangers." His hand curled around Callum's cock again, and this time his strokes were mercilessly slow, almost gentle. "You would have me fuck you in front of strangers."

  And that was ... okay, Callum hadn't even considered that, but to hear him say it? Yes.

  Nero chuckled, nuzzling Callum's throat. "Your heart-rate spiked again."

  "Uh ... you said 'fuck'. I mean," and he opened his eyes, blinking into the dim light. "I hadn't got as far as that. Yet."

  Nero's eyes gleamed faintly in the shadow of his hair. "Neither have we."

  God. Damn. It.

  "Ugh, when you say things," Callum complained, but his voice skidded up at the end because Nero had reached down behind Callum's balls to slide a finger deliberately over his asshole. He stiffened, out of surprise more than anything, but Nero frowned.

  "You have to submit to me, or the bond won't take."

  Because that was what they were doing. Callum swallowed, nodded, and tried not to say anything foolish like, 'please'. Instead– "Do you need to fuck me?"

  Nero's eyes darkened; Callum wondered if his heart had skipped, if Nero had heard it. And then Nero leaned in, brushed his mouth against Callum's cheek, his breath warm and unsteady. "If I say 'I don't know' will you let me?"

  Callum breathed in and, ah, that finger pressed against him, gentle enough but fuck he wasn't messing around. "Yeah," Callum said, closing his eyes, because he didn't think he could bear it if Nero looked at him just then. "Yeah, I'll let you. I'll ... I mean, I'll submit."

  Nero said nothing, but he sat back on his knees, taking his hand out of Callum's pants and tugging jeans and boxers down. He slid back, off the bed and onto his feet, and then he had Callum's jeans off and Callum shuddered because he was naked and Nero wasn't and that was just unfair.

  And then Nero knelt between his thighs, fingers wrapping loosely around Callum's cock, and bent down.

  Holy shit. Callum forgave him everything, because ... okay, he hadn't been expecting this. Nero's breath was hot against his cock, and then his mouth pressed wet and open against it, his tongue like a brand as he licked up from the root and Callum tried to keep his eyes open because the view was incredible. Nero, nuzzling his balls, humming with satisfaction, licking them over and then his attention returning upward, and this time he licked all the way up to lave his tongue over the head of Callum's cock and Callum tried to swallow his groan but, fuck, how could he? He was only human.

  Nero's mouth was even hotter when he sucked Callum into it, tongue flickering wickedly along the length of him and, god, the suction made his balls throb. He tried to hold still,
tried not to buck, but his hips jerked up anyway and then there was a hand, firm on his hip, holding him down. Nero raised his chin, Callum's cock resting dark and swollen against his mouth.

  "It's safe," he said. "You can't hurt me."

  Callum swallowed, blinking fast. "I just ... didn't think you'd, you know. Want that. This, I mean."

  Nero frowned. "It's no good?"

  "No, no, it's good, fucking hell," Callum protested. "But I figured, if anything, you'd want me to, you know. Suck you off." He shrugged, heart racing. "The whole 'submission' thing."

  "Because you think it somehow makes me less to do this?" Nero arched an eyebrow at him, and then, both hands curling around Callum's hips, he smirked. "Let's see."

  And he ducked his head, and proceeded to torture Callum with his tongue.

  It was incredible. Callum bucked uselessly against the hands holding him down, and the short breathy noises that spilled out of his mouth went from embarrassing to fucking necessary in under a minute. Nero held him still, let him scrabble pathetically at the bedcovers and moan, working him up to the brink and then slowing down, over and over, until Callum thought he was going to lose his mind. How the hell was he so good at this? Who had he been doing this with? Callum sobbed when Nero slowed yet again, easing off to just light, teasing licks. "Oh fuck you, god ... can you just, please?"

  Nero came up to bite his hip, teeth hard enough to bruise. "Please?"

  He sounded so unbearably smug that Callum kinda wanted to kick him in the face. "Make me come or fuck me, I don't care!"

  Nero hummed, pushing up between Callum's thighs to lean over him, face-to-face. "I choose the latter."

  He was warm and solid, spread out on Callum's chest, and then he stretched to open a drawer on the bedside cabinet, fetching out a familiar tube. He hesitated then, glancing down and licking his lips.

  "Werewolves," he said, sounding reluctant, "can't carry diseases."

  Callum blinked. "Uh ... what?"

  Nero's hand dipped back into the drawer to retrieve a foil packet Callum recognised at once. "This isn't necessary," Nero said, but the way he said it Callum felt certain this was less a statement and more a question.